The Aftermath
by Healer Pomfrey
Summary: My take at The Deathly Hallows - just a drabble for those, who did not like so many people to die in book 7. AU after book 6.


**The Aftermath  
****by Healer Pomfrey**

_All recognizable characters belong to J. K. Rowling, and I am not earning anything by writing this story.  
I am not a native speaker of English. Please excuse my mistakes._

_A drabble, which I wrote during a sleepless night whilst being sick - don't expect too much..._

* * *

"Hermione, go and fetch McGonagall, quickly," Gryffindor seventh year Ronald Weasley said to Hermione Granger, his former girlfriend.

Throwing a quick glance at her current boyfriend, Hermione dashed away to fetch the Headmistress.

HP

Harry Potter found himself in the Room of Requirement. Somehow, he had managed to summon the graves of his best friends and supporters, who had lost their lives in his war against Voldemort, to the Room of Requirement, so that he could say good-bye to them without being disturbed by anyone. He sadly picked up one of the white feathers of his snowy owl Hedwig, who had been his first friend ever. '_I'll ask someone to make me a quill from her feather_,' he decided, carefully sliding it into his robe pocket. '_I love you Hedwig_,' he thought, swallowing a lump that seemed to be stuck in his throat.

He sadly walked straight on to the grave of Fred Weasley, one of the best friends and allies he had ever had. '_Thanks for the Marauders' Map, Fred_,' he thought. '_If I had only been able to use it more wisely, I'd have been able to recognise that scumbag of a rat, before he could escape_.' Slowly pulling a joke candy out of his robe pocket, he held it between his thumb and his forefinger, before he carefully laid it onto the grave. '_I will give up my idea of becoming an Auror_,' he informed the boy, who had been like a big brother to him. '_I will help George with WWW, even if I have to brew potions for that. I will ask Hermione to marry me, and maybe she'll help with the research_.'

A few feet farther along the wall was a white grave that seemed to randomly change colours. Harry didn't even have to look at the inscription to know that it had to be Tonks' grave. '_Tonks, I'm so sorry_,' he thought, absolutely horrified at the thought of his godson's parents, who had died on his behalf. '_I'll take care of my godson_,' he promised, trying to fight back the tears.

'_Where is Dobby?_' he wondered as the first tears began to stream down his face. '_He was one of my best friends too_.' For some reason, he couldn't see the small elf's grave, but the image of the creature jumping up and down on his bed at the Dursleys' residence popped into his mind. '_I will always remember you, Dobby_,' he thought sadly, '_and I promise I will try to aid all elves, who are in need of help_.'

Right next to the colourful grave were three identical looking ones, over which three ghosts were hovering. Only when Harry stepped nearer, did he hear that two of the ghosts were having a heated discussion, while the third ghost was trying to stop them from fighting. '_Sirius, Remus_,' Harry realised, now unable to suppress his sobs. '_And Snape. I owe him. It's only because of him that I'm still alive_.' Harry buried his face in his hands and sobbed. '_I'm so sorry. If it wasn't for me, all of you could still be alive_,' he thought, feverishly trying to apologize.

'_Exactly_,' he heard Snape reply; however, before the Potions Master's ghost could even begin a tirade, he was stopped by his childhood enemy.

'_You're the one to talk Snape_,' Ghost Sirius hissed. '_If you had behaved civilly towards my godson, everything would have been different_.'

'_He is standing up for me_,' Harry realised in surprise, almost ready to chuckle when he heard Remus scold his two classmates. '_Even as ghosts you still have to fight. Can't you see that Harry is already crying? Now behave for his sake_.'

Harry glanced at the scene, seeing that Sirius was trying to kick Snape in the shins; however, the other ghost was too fast and fled. '_Oh no_,' he thought, feeling completely annoyed at the scene. However, just as he let out a sigh of exasperation, he felt an icy cold touch on his forehead and could barely suppress a cry.

"Mr. Potter!" the ghost's voice penetrated his ear.

'_No, that sounds different; that's not a ghost_,' he noticed warily.

"Mr. Potter, can you open your eyes?" the Potions Master continued, sounding very much alive.

Harry slowly cracked his eyes open just a little bit. A violent shiver struck his body at the sight of Professor Snape, who was standing next to him, wearing his usual black robes. "Are you alive, sir?" he whispered in disbelief. "You're supposed to be dead. I was just talking to your ghost and Sirius' ghost."

"He seems to be delirious. I will take him to Poppy," Snape said, apparently to the Headmistress, who was standing next to him.

"No I'm not," Harry protested firmly. "Feel free to use Legilimency and watch my memory of how all of you died. I summoned your graves to the Room of Requirement to say good-bye."

Professors Snape and McGonagall exchanged a pointed look, before the Slytherin entered the boy's mind more carefully than Harry could ever remember having experienced. After a few minutes, he pulled out and said in his soft, baritone voice, "Mr. Potter, please put these memories into my Pensieve."

Harry blinked, noticing in surprise that the professor had produced a Pensieve, seemingly out of nowhere. He mumbled his gratitude when the older wizard gently helped him to sit up, inwardly groaning as he noticed that he felt very dizzy. Reaching for his wand, he once again recalled the sad memory of how so many of his good friends and allies had given their lives for his war and placed the white memory string into the Pensieve.

"Thank you Mr. Potter. Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley, accompany Professor McGonagall to the Headmistress' office. I will join you as soon as I have taken Mr. Potter to Madam Pomfrey," Snape said, handing the Pensieve to his colleague.

"What do you think is wrong with Harry?" McGonagall asked in apparent concern. "Did Voldemort manage to cast something at him, when the two of you killed him last week?"

"No," the Potions Master replied in determination. "The Dark Lord did not even realise that Harry spelled my poisonous potion into his system. Mr. Potter is just suffering from a bad case of the wizard's flu, which I'm sure Poppy will be able to remedy within two days." With that he scooped Harry on his arms and carried him out of the dormitory.

A few hours later on the same cold November day, all Hogwarts students gathered in the Great Hall to watch Harry's fake memory, which his delirious mind had produced that morning. Professor Flitwick had charmed the Pensieve to display the memory, which was several hours long, on the wall of the Great Hall.

"Poor Harry. All this must have been horrible to imagine," Fred Weasley whispered to his brother.

"Thank Merlin that it didn't happen this way but was only a dream," George replied slowly. "I couldn't imagine being without you."

"It's good though, as sad as it is. You could show this in a Muggle theatre, calling it "The Deathly Hallows," Colin Creevy threw in, and everyone sitting nearby agreed.

**The End**


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